


Black Beauty

by taeminki



Category: Boys Republic (Band)
Genre: M/M, sorry wonjun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminki/pseuds/taeminki
Summary: Suwoong remembered people by their thoughts.





	Black Beauty

Having gone blind at eight years old and only having his father's face committed to (distant, fading, blurry) memory, Suwoong couldn't recognize people by their faces, and he couldn't think about them in that way, either. Instead, he used their voices for recognizing and their thoughts for recalling.

People opened up to Suwoong easily. They told him their innermost thoughts, most of which were quite innocent. Suwoong had surrounded himself with beautiful, innocent people-- like his father, who ran a flower shop and was a sucker for learning the meaning of each flower or bunch of flowers he sold-- and his best friend, who liked to lay down in the grass and stare at the clouds and try to put an object to their shapes-- and his boyfriend, who collected pretty rocks and placed them in Suwoong's hand so he could feel their shape and guess their color (many of them were smooth, like marbles, and Suwoong always guessed "pink," because it was the color that attracted Dabin's attention the most--but sometimes it was orange or yellow, too).

Suwoong thought about his boyfriend-- a tall man, with skin like marbles and a voice like gravel-- as he sat outside of a restaurant, waiting for the older man to meet him. He thought about going inside and ordering something, but he decided against it. He was always nervous when it came to being on his own. He was afraid to hurt someone or scare someone; he wasn't so afraid to make a fool out of himself, but that was always a fear, too.

Suwoong knew he needed to learn to be independent. If he hurt someone, it wouldn't be a huge deal. He wouldn't end up with a sword in his hand out of nowhere just because he was blind; there was no way he could do _that_ much harm if he was simply careful, like everyone else. How much harm could he really do, walking into a restaurant on his own? It was a little place and if he bumped into someone, all he had to do was bow, tell them _I'm sorry_ , and then move on.

Suwoong stood and breathed and started on his way, but a gentle hand caught his wrist and asked him, "You're leaving right when I show up?"

"Hyung!" Suwoong said happily, turning and throwing his arms around Dabin's body. He had a good sense of body; he knew how tall Dabin was and could easily navigate his body with just a touch. He needed to be more confident in himself, he thought; if he could map out his boyfriend the way he did, he could easily find a stranger's face or hands and know where not to place his own.

"Were you that hungry, baby? I'm sorry I made you wait up." Dabin said. He pulled away from the hug but not the touch; his fingers traced Suwoong's arm quickly and found his hands soon enough. Suwoong squeezed his fingers first, "No. I just-- I wanted to try to order by myself, hyung. I'm trying to lessen my fear of hurting people."

"Oh. Well-- do you want me to stick behind you, then? While we go inside?" Dabin asked. Gulping, Suwoong nodded, but-- "Can you, just... lead me, a little bit? Just for now, while I learn--while I get over my fears. Just-- don't let me bump into anyone, okay?"

"Okay," Dabin agreed. Suwoong took in a breath, and then he started, allowing the breath to escape deeply as he made his way toward the doors. He heard some chatter and some footsteps behind him; he was also so conscious of sound, as it was his way of seeing. He let his eyelids close, though it did nothing to his sight, it helped him hear, somehow. His body had gotten used to focusing in more on sound when his eyelids had slipped over his dark eyes.

Suwoong found the door without needing to stick his hands out like a zombie and feel his way around; he'd gotten over than when he was thirteen and had accidentally slapped his best friend upon turning around too fast. (They weren't friends when Suwoong slapped him, but that was how they met, and that was how one of Suwoong's stories unfolded-- the one about him getting punched by some random kid and then becoming his friend soon after.) Suwoong grabbed the restaurant's door and pulled it open, stepping back slowly so Dabin could see, register, and move with him. He gestured for Dabin to go first, but he laughed-- "No, no, baby, after you," and his fingers brushed Suwoong's as he gripped the door half an inch above his fingers, and his chest brushed against Suwoong's back as he moved into the younger's spot, ushering him to go first. Suwoong smiled, and he did; he went in first, and he nearly ran into the next door. He was unfamiliar with this place-- a new place, just opened a month ago. Suwoong stopped himself from smacking into the door, though, when he heard the chatter and how confined it sounded; when he didn't smell strong coffee and didn't clearly hear breakfast foods sizzle from the back. He wasn't in the restaurant quite yet; he was in the waiting room. Dabin's hand came out to grab his shoulder just as Suwoong stopped. Dabin let out a breath, and then he chuckled, "You're really good," and Suwoong stuck out his hand, found the door, and pulled, "I know. I try."

Dabin once again held the door for Suwoong and let him in first. Suwoong walked carefully toward the voice that said "Hi! Welcome to Lee's-- table for two?" and he spoke up, "Yes, please, but may we be seated outside?" and the woman was shocked for a moment because hardly anyone preferred to be outside in January, but she told him "Of course," and led the two right back outside. Dabin, being the boyfriend that he was, reached back Suwoong to pull out his chair, to hold his hand as he sat down--instinct, because they were only fifteen when they started dating and, sure, Suwoong had been blind for seven years but he still wasn't all that used to it, back then; at that point, he had been able to see longer than he hadn't.

"Drinks?" she asked them. Suwoong heard the gentle sound of menus hitting the table. Dabin opened his right up; Suwoong didn't touch his.

"Um, a lemonade for me-- baby, do you want a lemonade, or an iced tea?" Dabin asked. Those were the only two drinks Suwoong ever got when he was at a restaurant-- water if the place happened to lack both. Suwoong thought about it; then, "Water," because it was one thing he knew the restaurant had, and he only wanted what he knew.

"Absolutely. I'll be right out with those," and the woman walked away. Dabin moved-- Suwoong could hear that-- and then his hand was on Suwoong's and he was wondering, "You okay? You only ever order water if the restaurant doesn't have lemonade or--" and Suwoong knew that; he'd just been thinking about it himself, so he stopped Dabin's speaking and told him "I know, but-- I _know_  that they have water and I wanted to order that, because-- because I didn't need help to order it."

"Wh-- babe--" Dabin started, but he didn't seem to know where to go with it. Dabin let go of his hand and leaned back in his seat, presumably. The menu shifted again under his fingers and he was silent as he looked. Dabin wondered, "How will you know what food to order?" and Suwoong shrugged, "Well. I know it's still morning because I smelled eggs, and I assume most places that serve eggs will serve omelettes so I'm going to ask for that, but if they don't have omelettes then I'm going to order some eggs and toast."

"Or you could ask me what's on the menu because I know you don't even like eggs that much." Dabin said. He reached across again, his seemingly upset moment having passed. He rubbed the back of Suwoong's knuckles, "Hey. I get it-- you want to be independent. Everyone does. But there's nothing wrong with tiny things like this-- especially when you're not asking. Letting me order your drink or telling you what's on the menu is something you're always going to have-- you know that? Because I'm not going anywhere."

Suwoong smiled softly, closing his eyes again. He heard Dabin's gentle breathing; he had a sense for his anticipation and wonder. Suwoong nodded, "Yeah-- yeah, hyung, okay," and Dabin leaned back, satisfied. The woman came with their drinks just a second later, asked if they were ready to order. Dabin answered for him, "No, we need a minute, actually-- but, could we get an iced tea, please? Peach?" and the woman told them "Absolutely" and left to get them one.

"I love you," Suwoong said softly, in a way that he might say _You're so sweet_ , but those words weren't strong enough. All Dabin did in response was take his hand, again, and kiss the back of it.

 

 

 

Suwoong was home alone-- post birthday-breakfast-with-his-boyfriend-- when he suddenly recalled one of the first memories he had of Dabin. The incident took place when he was fifteen-- fifteen, the same age he started to date Dabin. He was working in his father's flower shop, a job he still had to this day. He was in the back, feeling around for the roses. His father had every basket of flowers labelled-- with their name, in print, and with their name, in bubbles of braille. Suwoong was forever grateful to his father for doing that for him; it was one of those little gestures that touched Suwoong's heart and made him love his father more and more. He'd had a general idea of where the roses were, and he took fifteen more steps, and he found the tulips, and then the asphodels, and then the roses. He carefully picked out for thorned roses and whispered a curse beneath his breath when he cut his finger. He hid that hand behind his back and carefully-- _carefully_  carried the four roses out to his father, who saw his position and asked "Did you cut yourself?" and Suwoong nodded, "Yes. Is there blood on the roses?" because he didn't know his father had detected his discomfort by sight. His father was silent for a moment-- then "No. But your hand is behind your back and you look pained. Go take care of it, okay? You remember where the bathroom is, right?"

"Yes, father." Suwoong said. He carefully moved to go to the restroom and opened the door, pushing it with his good hand. He washed off his fingers and dried them with paper towels, taking an extra one to wrap around his finger and hold there until the bleeding stopped. Then-- back to work. He stood behind the counter and waited for customers while his father quickly went to eat his lunch. He never left Suwoong out front by himself for more than ten minutes, though Suwoong was fully capable of it now; he was only fifteen back then. He was still a little immature and a little too entertained with whistling and annoying customers as they floated around the shop and looked at all the flower. Plus, if someone were to realize Suwoong was blind before his father got back, they could easily-- _easily_  steal from his shop. Suwoong's hearing was too good for that now, but back then--

"Excuse me?" someone asked, and Suwoong turned his head in their direction. He smiled, and he moved, and he hoped he'd put himself in front of the man. He asked, "Yes?" and the man was quiet for a moment. Then, "Do you have any purple tulips?" and Suwoong hated these requests when he was by himself. Purple; he had no idea what purple was, or how to detect it. He gulped. He didn't want to interrupt his father on his break, so he smiled, "Let me check," and he disappeared slowly to the back room and searched for tulips. Tulips, tulips-- he grabbed the basket when he found them and brought it to the front. As stupid as he may look, and as many tulips might be stolen, at least he wasn't bothering his father on one of the few breaks he got all day.

"H-here, um--" Suwoong placed the basket on the counter-- comically far away from the man, which he discovered when the man laughed softly and inquired, "Excuse me for asking, but... are you, um--"

"Blind, yes." Suwoong knew how bad people felt asking, but he never minded the question, nor did he mind the answer. The man moved closer and started rummaging gently through the flowers, picking some out. How many he had, Suwoong had no idea. He didn't trust him back then, but he could only comply with "5,000 won, then," when the man said he had five tulips. He was paid; he counted five bills and assumed they were all 1,000s. The man was silent for a moment long enough that Suwoong assumed he'd left, but then his voice came back, not having moved an inch, "What's your name, by the way?"

"Suwoong," he said, automatically feeling for his name tag and then remembering he'd misplaced it the last time he did his laundry. He flushed, embarrassed, and then, awkwardly, "You?"

"Dabin," the stranger answered after some silent moment; then, he was gone, shortly after he'd thanked Suwoong for the flowers. Suwoong thought about telling him he didn't really do anything except for blindly trust him, but he supposed that was better than nothing, so he accepted the _thanks_  with a responded "You're welcome! Have a nice day!" and let him go after that.

Years later, when Suwoong met his mother, he found out, by chance, "Dabin always gives me five tulips on my birthday--" and came to the conclusion that Dabin had been as honest with him that day as he was every day. He could hardly recall the date of that first encounter with Dabin, only that it was sometime in the middle of May, and his mother's birthday was on May 16th, so that must have been the day Dabin and Suwoong met-- perhaps the 15th instead, if he was buying them early, or 17th, if he happened to be late that year.

Suwoong didn't associate Dabin with flowers. His mother, yes; when he thought about her, he thought about tulips and what he could remember about what the color purple looked like. He had long forgotten the shape of a tulip but could imagine its shape in his mind when he touched one; and that was how he imagined Dabin's mother. Dabin himself, though, was still a rock. He was steady like one; he was smooth like one; he was built like one; he was beautiful like one. He was a marble of a rock; he was a pretty collection of separated pieces and that's how Suwoong thought of him. He imagined pink and yellow and orange rocks holding onto purple flowers, and he remembered hearing Dabin hold his mother as they cried over her husband's death. It was heartbreaking and beautiful; it was like rain on the tulips and the rocks. Suwoong remembered feeling so weird, standing in the next room. He remembered wanting to comfort them but not knowing how. He remembered feeling like a sudden unwelcome guest; he had been there for support in the first place, had been with Dabin so he could meet his mother, so he could maybe drive to the hospital with them later and meet his father, too, but halfway through the day of old stories and random habits, the hospital called, and Dabin's father was dead. So, he was an unwelcome guest, an intruder in a family's grief--

only he wasn't, because he finally walked into the room and walked toward the couch and he was pulled right in-- onto his boyfriend's lap and across his mother's, too, and they held him like they held each other and he even cried with them, because he may not have known Dabin's father but he knew he was a good man if he had any hand in raising Dabin; he was a good man if Dabin loved him, and it was a shame that the two had to lose a good man like that.

 

 

 

Meeting Suwoong's father had been a little different. Dabin was three years older than Suwoong-- at sixteen, that wasn't the greatest thing. Suwoong was dating an adult, and he was worried his father might freak out, so he sat his father down before Dabin arrived and let him know, "Dad, I've told you I have a boyfriend, right?" and his father confirmed yes, he had, and his name was Dabin and they met in the flower shop and he came often so he would probably recognize him. Suwoong was glad his father had remembered so much, and he was glad his father sounded so soft talking about his boyfriend. Suwoong knew he was excited, but he was worried the excitement might turn to anger with his next statement, "Well, he-- he's older than me."

For a while, his father was quiet, but the quiet didn't make Suwoong uncomfortable. He heard the hitch in his father's breath-- the one that showed confusion, and then his father reached for his hands, a habit he had when his son told him something serious. He rubbed his son's hands between his own and asked him, "How much older?"

His voice was still gentle. He wasn't angry; he was confused, and concerned, and waiting, wondering if Suwoong had done something very wrong-- as if Dabin was ten years older than him. Suwoong felt a little lighter about telling him "Three years," but three years was still a lot at sixteen. So, his father asked another question, hesitantly, "Are you two... having sex?"

"No." Suwoong said quietly, and his father let out the longest breath Suwoong had ever known him to take, and then he laughed, and he was relieved. His grip had gone soft around Suwoong's hands-- a tight grip that Suwoong hadn't noticed falling relieved. After his little laugh he told Suwoong, "I don't care, then," and pulled Suwoong in by the back of his neck to kiss his forehead. "Don't have sex until you're older, okay? I'll have to kill him otherwise," and Suwoong laughed softly, "Of course, father;" and they were laughing still when Dabin showed up. His voice was steady as he spoke to Suwoong's father; he was respectful and he kept his hands to himself, for the most part. He was nervous. Suwoong understood; but when his father excused himself to the bathroom and told them that they could do whatever they'd like-- _just keep it appropriate_ \-- Suwoong informed him, "You don't have to be afraid to hold me around my father," and Dabin hugged him, held him, and told him, "I didn't want to overstep any boundaries."

"My dad is okay. He's a little worried about me dating someone, but he likes you. I can tell-- and he doesn't care that you're older. He knows that I love you--as much as he assumes a sixteen-year-old can love, anyway. He knows." Suwoong said. He pushed himself into a straighter sitting position, letting Dabin hold him better. Dabin had started to laugh at Suwoong's last comment, telling him, "You know, for a sixteen-year-old, you love an awful lot."

"Only 'cause it's you." Suwoong said, turning in Dabin's arms to kiss his mouth. Suwoong's father chose that moment to walk back into the room, and he said "Hey! I thought I said keep it appropriate!" and Dabin almost had a _heart attack_ , but Suwoong could hear the amusement in his father's voice and he could hear it when it reached a laughing point; and Dabin let out a breath when Suwoong laughed, kissed him again and told him, "It's okay--it's a joke-- he's joking."

Suwoong constantly felt lucky that his father liked his boyfriend, and that his boyfriend liked his father. Both men were awful protective of him, and Suwoong worried there would be some spat over him-- his father telling Dabin to _back off, Suwoong is my son_  and Dabin trying to defend their relationship in some way, perhaps with _you're not even around!_  because Suwoong had gotten a little emotional before and spilled that he missed his father, who worked two jobs now to ensure that Suwoong would have everything he needed to make it through high school and into university. Suwoong was grateful, of course, but he couldn't help missing his father.

Suwoong was just glad-- so, so glad that it never turned into an argument.

 

 

 

Suwoong recalled the memories as he sat at home with tea in his shaking palms, and he started crying as meeting Dabin's mother turned into grieving over her husband's death, and then introducing Dabin and his father turned into a brief, faint recall of his own father's death. It had happened a little over a month ago-- exactly thirty-three days before Suwoong turned twenty-seven. He was supposed to go in to work with his father that day, but his father told him no, no, it's your best friend's birthday, you go ahead and have fun with him. Suwoong wanted to tell his father it's okay-- it's okay, because he didn't have to go to this party because he could celebrate with his best friend another time; after all, a private celebration was more special than making an appearance at a big party, but his father protested-- no, no, Suwoong, you can do that, too, but you should go to this party because you hardly go to parties and you should go ahead and take your boyfriend too so he can look after you, okay? And Suwoong said dad, I'm twenty-six, almost twenty-seven, I'll be fine on my own, but his dad firmly told him go to this party and take your boyfriend and enjoy yourself, and I'll see you back home.

So his father left, and Suwoong called Dabin, carefully running his fingers over the phone to press the numbers properly. Dabin answered, "Baby?" and Suwoong smiled at his voice, his guilt fading into a dull throb as his mind focused in on spending the day with Dabin, "Hi, hyung;" and on and on they went, having a little conversation, Suwoong asking "Do you want to come to a party with me?" and Dabin being excited, "Absolutely, baby-- want me to drive you?" and Suwoong laughed a little bit, "Unless you'd like to walk with me. It's a little far," and he asked how far and Suwoong said five miles and it was normal for him to walk that far but Dabin scoffed and said, "No. I'll pick you up," and they talked and talked until Dabin was at his front door, at which point he collected Suwoong and the present in his arms and drove them off, off to the party.

Party-- party-- they partied for hours. They wished Sungjun the happiest birthday and blushed when Sungjun congratulated them for almost eleven years of a relationship. Suwoong hit his arm and told him "This is your day. Don't talk about us--" but then Dabin was looping his arms around Suwoong's waist because a rowdy group was moving past them and almost bumped them both, and it wouldn't have been a big deal if they did but he was so protective, and Sungjun cooed, "So cute-- hey, you two have fun, and come find me later, okay? We'll go hang out somewhere, just the three-- well, four of us," and Suwoong wondered who number four was, wondered if Sungjun met someone, but didn't have time to ask because Sungjun was gone and Dabin was kissing his neck and telling him "Party-goers are awful crazy."

"We're party-goers." Suwoong reminded him, turning in Dabin's hold and looping his arms around Dabin's shoulders. Dabin hummed, "Guess we should be crazy, then?"

So they danced. They danced the afternoon and the evening away; they were the last two at Sungjun's place, apart from a man named Minsu who Sungjun introduced as "My partner of eight months--" and, after hitting Sungjun again and wondering "Why did you hide him from me for so long?!" greeted Minsu with a hug and told him "It's so nice to meet you;" and Minsu was a little uncomfortable because he wasn't much of a hugger when it came to strangers, but he warmed up quickly, because he knew Suwoong wasn't going to be a stranger anymore, and neither would Dabin-- he was being introduced to their little family of a friendship group and, if things went as well as everyone wanted and hoped, he was here to stay.

Suwoong got a call when he was in the car with Dabin. He fumbled for his phone, a device he only used for his father. He assumed his father was worried because he wasn't home yet-- it was quite late, after all. He carefully placed his finger on the green button, he hoped, and slid it across. He brought it to his ear and heard some static on the other end, so he told his father, "Dad, I'm sorry I'm not home yet, but I'm with Dabin-hyung--"

"Lee Suwoong?" a woman's voice asked. Suwoong frowned-- _what the hell?_  Who was calling him? Who knew his name? He wondered, "Yes?" and she began to explain, "Lee Suwoong, yes-- your father, Lee Hansol, was in a tragic accident. He's in a coma."

"Wh-- _what?_ " Suwoong hissed. Dabin's hand was on his thigh in the next moment, his gentle voice whispering "What's wrong?"

Suwoong's eyes were filling with tears; he couldn't believe what he was hearing. The _roof_  caved in on his father and three customers in his store. The _roof caved in_ \-- how did the roof cave in? The building was so beautiful, so perfect. The flowers were crushed; three people were in the hospital; _his father was in a coma_. Suwoong sobbed into his hand and hung up the phone shortly after finding out which hospital his father had been admitted to. He choked out, to Dabin, "D-drive me to the hospital," and Dabin sounded shocked, "What? Baby, what hospital-- why--?!" and Suwoong sobbed, and he cried "My father--" and he recalled the hospital's name and suddenly everything was moving much faster, and Dabin was driving a little dangerous, and he was only driving with one hand because his other hand was still on Suwoong's thigh, and then his hand, and his thigh again because Suwoong used both of his hands to rub tears away from his eyes.

"What happened? Baby, what's going on?" Dabin pressed, trying not to sound panicked, but he _was_  panicked and he was emotional because Suwoong's father had practically adopted Dabin; he'd taken care of Dabin the way his father had before he died, despite the fact that Dabin was twenty-nine going on thirty. Dabin had adopted Hansol like he was his own father-- and of course, _of course_  he wasn't replacing his own dad; he never could, but he was just like another father and Dabin loved him and he didn't want to lose _another_  dad-- just like Suwoong didn't want to lose _another_  parent.

Suwoong's father didn't actually die on Sungjun's birthday; he died a week later, when his heart gave out in his sleeping state. His organs died inside his body because his brain shut down; he left the world on December 24th. Suwoong and Dabin didn't celebrate Christmas that year.

 

 

 

When Dabin came home, Suwoong was crying. He was curled up and his tea cup was on the table, or on the ground; Suwoong didn't really know. He wasn't listening for the crash that would have come should he have miscalculated where the table was. Dabin walked through the door calmly, but then his actions were quick and noisy and worried; he tossed something, likely his bag, to the ground and started forward quickly, his feet making loud, loud noises because he hadn't taken off his shoes. Suwoong wasn't entirely sure where he had ended up, but he certainly wasn't on the couch. He must have been on the ground, perhaps on his knees because his arms reached from beneath Suwoong's legs and he hugged the man close.

"Baby, don't cry." Dabin said. Suwoong sobbed one last time, "I-I'm sorry--" but Dabin didn't let him finish, "Don't. Don't say sorry, just don't cry;" and Suwoong nodded and allowed the last of his tears to fall before he put a forceful stop to his sobs.

"Do you need anything, baby boy?" Dabin asked. Suwoong liked when Dabin called him that-- baby boy. It was a rare occurrence, because Dabin was often too lazy to go ahead and say _boy_  after _baby_. It was the reason Dabin called him _baby_  so much-- sure, Dabin loved him and wanted to have a sweet pet name for him, but he also didn't want to shorted Suwoong's name to _Su_  or _Woong_  so he replaced it with _baby_ \-- baby, baby, baby, and Suwoong was called _baby_  more than he was his real name.

"I just want you to cuddle me and-- keep calling me baby boy." Suwoong said. Dabin didn't hesitate to crawl onto the couch and pull Suwoong into a comfortable position-- laying them both down, letting Suwoong stretch over him. Suwoong asked every time he curled up on top of Dabin-- which had been every cuddle session and every night for the past month and three days, so he already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway, "I'm not crushing you, right?"

His voice was still stuffy; he sounded pathetic. It didn't matter, "No, baby, you're not crushing me. No, baby boy, you're not crushing me."

It was natural for Suwoong to fall asleep shortly after crying, so he fell asleep on top of Dabin and dreamt one of his rare dreams that _showed him_  memories instead of forcing him to listen. He dreamt in picture and color; he recalled a faint memory of his mother and a rather clear one of his father-- when he was five and when he was eight, respectively. He saw his mother cooing at him, reaching for him, picking him up and kissing his lips. He saw his father rubbing his head. He was blurry, and he looked sad, and he gently told Suwoong, "You're losing your sight, buddy-- you... could go blind," and Suwoong cried because he was _eight_  and he told him, "But, dad, I-I don't want to be blind--" and his father hugged him and told him "I know. I know, buddy, I'm sorry," and he cried and cried and said "I don't want to forget what you look like--" and his father told him, "Silly kid, you won't forget what I look like as long as you keep loving me," and he was right. Suwoong didn't know what his father looked like a month before he died or what he looked like when Suwoong turned eighteen, but he knew what his father looked like when he was eight and he couldn't imagine he looked any different; maybe just a little more stressed with slightly lighter hair. He knew his father was still handsome and lively and young; he knew his father still looked beautiful when he died. He knew it, he just _knew it_.

Suwoong opened his eyes and looked to the blackness-- to the real world in which his father was dead. He took in a breath and listened to the sounds around him. He heard a heart beating and bubbles popping. He heard and felt the steady rise-fall of Dabin's chest. He curled his fingers against the fabric beneath his palms and felt it tug a bit, more fabric coming against his hand. It was Dabin's shirt. The popping bubbles came to a stop and Dabin's hand was on his shoulder-- "Baby boy?" he whispered, and Suwoong nodded. He was awake. He was here. He felt better.

"How long have I been crushing you?" Suwoong asked, carefully pushing himself to sit on Dabin's lap. His body jolted with fear when Dabin started shifted, because he was still on Dabin's legs. Dabin stopped, reached for him, and laughed through the small heart attack Suwoong had. His arm held Suwoong's waist steady as he was pushing himself into a sitting position, keeping Suwoong on his lap-- as he was telling him, "Exactly zero minutes, or seconds, or milliseconds, because you weren't crushing me."

"Fine. How long have I been asleep, hyung?" Suwoong asked. Dabin was quiet for a minute, a shift of his arm as he looked at the time, another silent moment and another shift of his arm as he let it fall, as he calculated-- and then, "Two hours."

" _Two?_  Sorry, hyung. You must be hungry, right?" Suwoong asked. Dabin paused, "Yes," but he pulled Suwoong into his chest and didn't allow a chance for either of them to get up and cook. Suwoong had gotten good at cooking on his own-- using the stove and checking for fire. He used his sense of smell and touch-- yes, he burned his hands a bit just to check for a fire (he had quite a few blisters on his fingers, ones that Dabin soothed with ice and kisses). Still, Dabin did most of the cooking, for which Suwoong felt jealous because he didn't work. He only went to school-- online, and it was mostly hearing and talking to teachers over the phone and reading in braille and everything that he was limited to because he was blind. He needed to work around this; he needed to be independent; he needed to help Dabin even if he didn't need help because, yes, Dabin made a lot of money because he took over his father's business and yes, yes, Suwoong could be as dependent as he wanted because Dabin promised a ring one day soon, when the two had healed enough to get married, but Suwoong couldn't do that because he'd been trying to be independent since he was thirteen years old because he was so sick of hurting people and being a burden and not even being able to pick out his best friend's birthday present without asking him to drive him to the store so he could pick something for himself and let Suwoong pay for it and then hold onto it for a week and a half until his birthday came-- and then he had to act surprised and thank him all over again and Suwoong was so, so sick of feeling like that-- he was twenty-seven; he needed to grow up.

"I'll cook something for you." Suwoong said through another build of emotion. He felt more tears flood his eyes, but this time, Dabin told him, "Shh, shh," and held him and kissed him and told him, "Let it out, let it out," and Suwoong wondered why but knew, at the same time, that Dabin wanted him to sleep away the first wave of emotion and come back to it if he still felt bad-- didn't want him to cry and grieve so much that it pushed him to depression but also wanted him to cry and grieve enough as his body needed. Dabin was smart; and he knew Suwoong well.

"I know how you're feeling," Dabin whispered to him, stroking his hair. His lips were at Suwoong's ear, giving him small, accidental kisses every time his lips moved. Suwoong shivered at the contact but made sure to suppress it so that Dabin wouldn't move away-- and Dabin didn't, and he continued to whisper into Suwoong's ear, "I understand-- I know your dad is dead, and I know it hurts. I know you want to be independent. I've never had that feeling, but I struggled with insecurity for so long, baby boy. And you know what? You helped me with that."

 

 _"You know what I think makes a person beautiful?" Suwoong asked, cradling Dabin's head in his arms. Dabin shook his head, his hair rubbing against Suwoong's arms. Dabin was a little too quiet; "Maybe what I think doesn't matter, because I can't_ see _beauty, but remember that I could see once, and I may have only been eight and below, but I hold onto those memories like my life depends on it--I remember some things."_

 _Again, a nod. Suwoong pulled his arms away from Dabin's head, pushing him back gently. He tried to steady Dabin's face so Dabin was looking at him-- and it didn't matter if he was or not, but Suwoong liked to think he had more of Dabin's attention like this, liked to think Dabin would focus more on his words like this, "I think beauty comes from within-- and_ no _, I don't think that just because of the books and the movies. I think that because it's true. I don't give a damn about your physical appearance, and, whatever, I'm blind, so of course I don't, and you're not, so I get it, you do. But I want you to think about yourself the way I think of you for a minute, okay?"_

_"Okay." Dabin agreed. Suwoong started to talk him through the seeing process, "A beautiful personality consists of good traits. Patience, love, optimism-- everything that people describe as bright and pure. You have all of these things, and in ridiculously large amounts._

_"You have thoughts that take my breath away. You kiss me like I'm the only person you've ever loved or plan to love-- and I_ am _and you prove it to me every day-- do you know why? Because that's who you are. And it's beautiful-- you're_ beautiful _, Dabin._

_"So who cares--" Suwoong ran his fingers over Dabin's eyes-- gentle, careful not to poke him, "--if your eyes are big, or--" his hands moved to Dabin's lips, "--if your lips are a little too thick, or--" Suwoong touched his jaw next, "--if your chin is short, because those are only flaws that humans made up and humans don't matter-- what matters is soulmates and love and your own opinion of yourself and I really hope I can steer your mind away from society's dumb standards and make you realize that you're one of the most beautiful people the world has ever been graced with."_

_Silence. Suwoong couldn't focus on Dabin's reactions, only the heat of his anger and the heavy rise and fall of his chest. Dabin kissed him, then; he kissed him hard with his "too thick" lips and bumped his cheek with his "slightly too wide" nose but all Suwoong could focus on was how damn lucky he was to have someone like Dabin and how happy he was with this man._

_"You fit a lot of society's beauty standards, you know that?" Dabin asked softly. Suwoong shrugged, "I don't care. Do you love me for that?" and Dabin was silent, then, "No," and Suwoong smiled, "Exactly. You love me for other reasons--so, I don't care what you look like. I only care that you have this automatic beauty about you and that you're mine and you love me."_

_"And you're right about all three of those things."_

 

"And it's my turn to help you." Dabin said. He rubbed Suwoong's thigh; he gave Suwoong's ear a kiss on purpose and then came more accidental ones, "I don't know, Suwoong, if you feel like I do. I don't know if it hurts because you love me so damn much-- I don't know if I matter to you more than your dad does. I know it hurts because I love you so much-- I know you mean more to me than my dad, because that's how he taught me. Before I told him I was gay, he told me that if I found the right girl, I would love her so much that she would always be my _wife_. She would always be the most important person in my family, second to my mother. She would get me through any damn thing because I would live for her.

"So I told him I was gay, years later, and he told me that it still stood, what he said-- that my husband would always be my husband, that my husband would be almost, if not just, as important as my mother-- that my husband would get me through _anything_. And you do. You do, Suwoong. I've been with you for almost eleven years, now, and you just keep meaning more and more to me every day-- you give me more meaning every day. You kept me alive when my father died. You kept me afloat when I felt like I was drowning. You showed me how beautiful the world is and you can't even _see it_ \--"

Suwoong felt a waterfall down his cheeks. It wasn't just his water that was falling.

"And I want to do that for you, baby. Baby boy. It's my turn. I'm going to get you through this. I'll work as hard as I can to help you live in this world where your parents are gone. I will, I promise. I'll work to deserve that spot as the most important person in your life. I've got you, okay? And I love you."

Suwoong was quiet for a little while. He moved away carefully, touched Dabin's face carefully. He was good about mapping Dabin's body, but he was awful shaky and awful unsteady and when Dabin jerked back and muttered "Ah," Suwoong knew he had poked his eye. They both laughed gently about it, and Suwoong went in a little more carefully the next time, holding Dabin's cheeks and slowly, slowly leaning in to kiss his injured eye. When their giggles died down and Suwoong had apologized and been forgiven immediately, he started to speak.

"My father didn't teach me that. My father taught me to look for someone that would take care of me. He taught me to be dependent-- but I didn't want that because he worked too hard for me; and look at him. He worked himself to death." Suwoong said. It was far from the truth, but Dabin didn't interrupt or correct him, probably because Suwoong was speaking too fast, too emotionally, didn't give him a chance to cut in, "But you taught me that. You taught me that-- that I would love you so much that it hurts, that you would help me through everything. You didn't even have to tell me. You were just you, and I was just me, and I knew.

"And you don't have to work to deserve that spot as the most important person in my life. You are. You love me, and that stuff is automatic, because I love you, too. Don't work yourself to death, Dabin-- _don't_  work yourself to death for me."

And then they were kissing. They were both still crying, which made their kiss wetter than usual, but they didn't stop. They held each other a little too tight and kissed each other a little too long and were breathless and pained in the knuckles and shoulders and hips by the end, but those little things didn't matter because Dabin's eyes were on Suwoong, studying his beauty, and Suwoong's hands were on Dabin's face, studying his beauty, and they made a silent commitment to each other-- no more sadness, only some natural grief, and each other.

**Author's Note:**

> please love and stan and support boy's republic they're all angels  
>  ~~that being said I don't actually know them that well what a hypocrite am i right so i'm sorry if the characterization was way off - that kind of sucks because there are barely any boy's republic fics out there and this one didn't even get the boys' personalities right way to go~~


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